Always Forever (Ticci Toby x Reader)

Chapter 1

Word of Mr. Rogers' death and Toby's supposed death spread quickly around the surrounding neighborhoods and cities, just as quickly as the fire Toby had set on his own neighborhood that same night had spread.

You had overheard these things in some conversations but you didn't want to believe it. No, Toby couldn't have done that. Not your Toby. He couldn't be dead. He's not dead. Though once you saw those same "rumors" on the news while sitting in front of the t.v. one day, your blood had run cold and all you could do was open your mouth in shock as it showed Toby's picture: your Toby.

You quickly turned off the t.v., not wanting to see or hear anymore of this before throwing yourself on the couch, pondering profusely about all the moments you had spent with Toby.

Three years ago, back when you were a freshman and Toby was a sophmore, he was constantly bullied by vile kids for his uncontrollable tics and other illnesses. They taunted him, mocking the sounds and movements of his tics, surrounding him with nothing but horrid words. They continuously pushed him to his breaking point, and he was just about close to reaching it, to snapping right then on the spot as he sat alone, feeling rage surge throughout his body until someone sat next to him: you. You were a new student who had just moved to the next over neighborhood and you saw the miserable boy sitting by himself. You were also alone so you decided to try and become friends with him.

At first, Toby was a bit cold and hesitant towards you due to the shackles of his trust issues but once he was able to see that you genuinely wanted to be friends with him, he relaxed and become more open and cheerful with you. You got used to his tics and his small mood changes and you embraced them because they were part of who he was. You enjoyed spending time with Toby; waiting for each other after class, hanging out at lunch, him walking you home from school. Being friends with the fluffy haired boy meant that you were isolated from everybody else and that you were looked down upon by the other students but that didn't matter because you were happier and better off with Toby by your side; someone who truly understood you, cared about you, and made you feel welcome.

It wasn't long before you had caught feelings for the boy, suddenly becoming flustered around him and his friendly touches. You often found yourself staring at him for too long, admiring his pretty features before he would turn and lock his gentle brown eyes with your (eye color) ones, causing you to look down in embarrassment. Unbeknownst to you, Toby liked you as well and he would find himself becoming warm and happy when he was around you. You were his happiness, his color, the highlight in his cold, gray life; the life Toby did his best to hide from you.

He was ashamed of his life which is why he never really opened up about it to you. You had only known about his Tourette's syndrome and Bipolar Disorder but he didn't want you to know about his CIPA (Cognitive Insensitivity to Pain) and other disorders or the harsh abuse he suffered from his dad back at home.

You had recently found about both of those things when the two of you were walking home from school one day. When he reached out to you to get a fallen leaf from your hair, his long sleeve shirt had slid down his arm just enough for you to see the bright purple-red bruises that began to show from under his sleeve. You accidentally grabbed his arm harshly to examine the bruises causing Toby to gasp, not from pain but from surprise. He protectively removed his arm from your grasp and looked down to the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with you. You heart swelled with sadness as you realized why he always insisted on walking you home but never wanted you to walk him home.

"Toby...", you whispered., "do you..do you get hit at home?"

He paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He could deny it and make up a quick lie or he could tell you the truth and admit to the abuse at home. It was you, after all...he could trust you therefore he decided on the latter option.

"My dad*tic*", was all he could muster to say, shrinking both physically and emotionally in embarrassment.

Two words and you could understand exactly what he meant. You quickly hugged his slim form, taking in his scent as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"I'm so sorry Toby...", you whispered, gripping the back of his shirt tightly, not wanting to let go of him.

You held him possessively, wanting to shield him from the dangers of the world..the dangers of his dad. This boy was precious to you and it made you enraged to know that someone would want to harm him. Toby had done nothing to deserve the pain he went through. You pulled away from him and gently reached for his arm, pulling up his sleeve slightly and lightly brushing your fingers over the bruises expecting him to react in pain but he didn't; he let you touch them with no sign of pain whatsoever.

"Does this hurt?", you asked him, curious as to why he was straight faced when you added more pressure upon his wounds.

"I *tic* can't feel pain", he admitted, his eye contact shifting between his bruises to your eyes.

You furrowed your eyebrows in interest and continued to graze your fingers over the bruises before lifting his arm to your face, gently kissing each of the bruises you could see.

He stared at you in awe, unaware of the warm feeling that over took his face. He told himself right there that he'd always protect you.

After that occurrence, Toby started having problems regarding home and his mental disorders which caused you to see him less and less. The bullying got worst and you did your absolute best to defend him which often resulted with everyone teaming up against the both of you. They branded him with the name "Ticci Toby" and taunted him, showing no mercy of stopping despite your desperate pleas. As Toby's mental state began to deteriorate quickly, his parents decided to take him out of public school and continue his learning with home schooling to which he confessed to you on his last day there. You struggled to go through the day with him, trying your best to not give out any negative feelings because after all, you wanted his last day to be happy with you.

On the last walk home, you hugged him very tightly and thanked him for everything. He reassured you that the both of you could still see each other, just not as often due to the schooling situation. Reluctantly and bitterly, you watched him walk away from you, feeling your heart ache with pain.

Over the couple of years, you and Toby grew apart; from seeing each other less and less to not seeing each other at all. Your school life became somewhat tolerable. You weren't bullied like how you were back then but you were still an outcast, often alone by yourself but you didn't mind, in fact, you preferred to be alone rather than surrounded by people who cared about nothing but themselves and their status levels.

About a year or so later, word broke through the school that Toby and his sister had gotten in a car crash which resulted in her passing away. You desperately wanted to give your condolences to Toby but you didn't know where he lived so you couldn't see him. You felt terrible for him because you knew that his sister really helped him stay somewhat stable. Rumor also had it that Toby was receiving extensive mental help due to supposedly becoming insane, having terrible nightmares and seeing things that weren't really there.

After that, Toby's name became less and less frequent around the school and eventually, he was forgotten...even by you. You had finally broken out of your habit of waiting for Toby to walk you home from school. You finally stopped thinking about him and continued on with your life as if you never had met him.

Until now, as you laid on your couch, unlocking the deep memories between you and him. In some sick way, you were proud of him for getting revenge on his terrible father. Yet one thing stayed in your mind. Toby's death. Was he really dead? You had overheard that he supposedly died in the fire he started but...you just couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

You put your hands over your face as nothing but Toby filled your mind. You didn't want to imagine him covered with blood or burning in fire.

You got up from the couch and looked through the window, watching the leaves gently fall from the tree and wishing you had stayed in touch with him.

Maybe it would have made a difference.